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Friday, October 31, 2014

Flash Fiction Friday and here I am barely out of bed after the Halloween costume party.....Oh, I see they have been up all night and just gotten into bed! Let's see what this is all about, in 100 words or less, of course.

Please visit the other participating authors and spread the love. Comments are most appreciated.Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜﾚo√乇¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*°

A Black Stallion of Men

It had been a great party. There’d been good food, great
music, plenty of ass and rivers of whisky. The Halloween party had been a roaring
success. Walking around all night with two of the men’s heads in one or another’s
ass had their heads swimming in pheromones in the Black Stallion costume.

The men were hornier than Hell as the moon set into the dark
recesses of the night.

They fell into the king-sized bed like a train of
pull-toys. As long a there were no petty jealousies, they could live as
brothers….and lovers. No one would ever know.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Ahhhhh, Thursday greets again in the embrace of our reunited lovers. This is a peek into my work-in-progress for Decadent Publishing due December 4th. I thought I would jump ahead to a flashback. A little bit of steamy sex is always good.So, once you are through reading my sample, slip over to our group and visit all the other participating authors at the link below, or just visit them from my page. They are all listed one-by-delicious one like shots on a bar ~ ready for you!Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜﾚo√乇¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*°

They slept deeply, wrapped in the
warm security of each other’s arms and legs. The rise and fall of their
breathing was rhythmic, in harmony with the single heartbeat of love that they
shared so unexpectedly. Their lovemaking opened the door to another plane, a
level of consciousness Aynne had never experienced. She tingled with life all
over her body, every pore an independent explosion of sensitivity and feeling.
She wanted more; she felt alive. She slipped under his arm to escape his
embrace as he slept. She padded softly, barefooted, to the bathroom. She closed
the door gently, quietly as the tumbler fell into place and latched. She drew a
bath which she enhanced with the salts and oils provided by the hotel for
guests. She was exhilarated, aloft in love, on
the wings of a snow white dove, she hummed softly to herself, smiling, or perhaps a black dove, she thought
delightfully.

Aynne toe-tested the water beneath
the blanket of aromatic bubbles and, as it was perfect, she slid like molten
wax along the side of a candle from the edge into the steaming water. She
released an involuntary ahhhhhhhhhhh as
she settled into the silken water, enveloped in nothing but fragrant pillows of
soothing bubbles. She closed her eyes and simply inhaled the perfumed heat
surrounding her. Tipping her head back upon the bathtub rim, she felt the water
rise and fall around her breasts with each satisfied breath. As she became
more aware of the sensations assaulting her tingling, burning flesh, she gave
herself over to the indulgence. Somehow, the night had changed her; she felt
different.

Aynne was a woman.

She slid under the level of the
water, and submerged herself fully into the awareness of her womanhood, and
held her breath; nothing stirred, nothing fluttered, nothing moved - trapped in
time for her to savor. She felt a symphony of fingertips flitter along her
right breast to her belly and settle on the rise between her thighs. When she
rose for breath, from under the water’s velvet surface, she opened her emerald eyes
to see Simon perched on the edge of the tub with nothing on but a gleaming
smile.

Her skin glistened from the bath
salts and oils. He reached for her neck to caress her head as she broke the
surface. She was slippery and warm - a temptation of sensual delight.

“I am sorry Simon; did I wake you
drawing the bath?”

“No, darling, the chill that
filled your absence and stole your heat woke me. That, and I heard you humming.”

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

It is Halloween Week and Tantalyzing Tuesday. How can anyone resist the combination and total indulgence those two evoke? I can not so I will not.We each select a photo that inspires us and in 200 words or lesswrite a piece of entertaining flash fiction about the photo. Easy-peasy, but not always. Here's mine. Have a quickie read and then dash over to the other author's offerings and indulge yourself all over again. They are listed like bats hanging from the rafters one-by-adorable one, of at the group links scattered like candy throughout the post.Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜﾚo√乇¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*°

Holly Does Halloween

The sky, a deep yet vibrant hue of blue-black, was motionless
under the shaded moonbeams that stretched across the silent landscape. Nothing
moved, nor made a single sound. The crickets and whippoorwills, the oak leaves shed
by weeping branches heavy under autumn clouds and tumbled broken twigs all lay
still as though paralyzed by the silence.

It was the kind of hush that demanded a quicker step of
purpose and determination to speed the arrival of one’s destination safely, yet
perhaps still slightly unnerved. Casting an anxious
glance over a slightly quivering shoulder aided in the speed and lightness
afoot.

It was as though an uneasy spell had been cast like a
spider’s web over the chilled and barren earth as the night deepened to a
purple velveteen backdrop. The mute shadows greeted the hocus-pocus of
traditional three foot goblin trick-or-treaters who threw ridicule and humor in
the face of the power of death.

And then there was Holly…

No one does a stick like Holly. Even since she was a
little girl, she just had a knack for
it. And it showed in how she handled…and enjoyed...herself on All
Hallows Eve.

Friday, October 24, 2014

Flash Fiction Friday! Again! Why it feels just like yesterday when we were tickling your fancy with a flickering flash. Well, you know the drill: a bunch of pervert writers have to write a short 100 word flash based on the photo below...and we all have to use the same photo. So each of our takes will be different. But, I promise you, they will be wildly different, based upon my past experience with this group.So, here we go. Down that slippery slope we call our imaginations. Holding hands and skipping along the way with our twisted Muse. So...one, two, three.....weeeeeeeee!!Enjoy~ ☼ღஜﾚo√乇¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*°

Perdition

The tumblers of the lock fell into place softly as he
twisted the key and opened the creaking cellar door. The light knifed through the
darkness, bathing her face at the mirror. She was ready, prepared in the dress
he gave her to wear: crinoline and laces, satin and ribbons, but no panties......still.

“You!”

How long had she been here, stolen from her life, in this
velveteen prison? How long would she have to endure, to pretend...to…to...want him?

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Stuck in a traffic jam on the highway, in
the middle of a record-breaking heat wave, Adrian Greene has more on his
fevered mind than praying for rain and getting home. With little else to do,
his thoughts stray to a better time in his life—his youth and an adventurous
three years spent with his first boyfriend. If there’s one thing he longs for,
it’s a chance to relive it all.

Excerpt:

I avoided Tim for days afterward—the
cafeteria—anywhere I happened to see
him, or hear his voice. Until we met up in science class and I had nowhere left
to run. Mr. Gilchrist wouldn’t allow anyone to swap partners, even though I
told him it was a life-or-death situation. He just glared, pointing to the back
of the classroom. I edged along the wall, avoiding everyone’s prying stares and
slumped into the chair next to Tim, dumping my notebook on the table.

“It’s been a while,” he murmured, below
the teacher’s announcements.

I refused to answer him and took out my
pen.

“Sooner or later you’ve got to speak to
me.” Sitting erect, he flipped open the science book. “We’re partners and we’ve
got a project to do.”

He placed the book between us, and his
hand brushed mine. I flashed a timid grin at him and he smiled. Why did he have
to be attractive and the sole object of my carnal desire?

We read the next chapter in the textbook
and discussed what we’d do for the project. The time went quickly, and before
the class ended, we were putting together the fragmented pieces of our friendship.
We talked about our parents and music, and sports, not that I had any real
interest, however we did avoid the “lump under my chip bag” topic.

The bell rang.

Tim shot to his feet and slipped me a
piece of paper from his notebook. “Read it when you get home.”

And with that, he was gone like a bullet,
the first out of the classroom. Guys didn’t write guys notes, not usually
anyway, so naturally he’d piqued my curiosity. Floating from the room wearing a
grin, I wove through the oncoming maze of students. Outside, my mother had
parked along the curb, across the street in the shade of a maple tree. She
waved and smiled.

“How was your day?” She started the car.

“Good!” I clicked the seat belt and then
lifted my rump to get at the note. Apprehensive, though eager, I unfolded the lined
piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, just a note from a friend….” I
read the first couple sentences and my cheeks flushed. Even though the majority
of Timothy’s chicken-scratch handwriting was almost impossible to decipher,
‘fondle your balls’ came across pretty clear.

Blak Rayne is a published author of gay erotic and yaoi style fictional romance. She loves to write and believes it's one of the greatest forms of self-expression. What better way to see inside the human soul?

Blak resides North of Sixty, and yes, she is a woman, wife and mother. She’s been writing and drawing since elementary school, and she loves anything that involves the arts. As for family, her daughter is her toughest critic and greatest support!

Now, for the real biography....

A good friend, who is an aspiring author, happened to mention that she likes to read author bios, and when she checked mine, sadly, she was disappointed. The bio I use is generic, blah, and it doesn't tell her anything personal about Blak Rayne. Her suggestion. Change it! What she really meant to say: "I want to read the juicy bits, lady!"

Okay, the truth. My life is crazy hectic most days as I divide my time between family and friends, writing and marketing, running our businesses and household. I spend an average of eight to twelve hours a day on the computer. No, lie.​ After quitting smoking years ago, I've become even more of a health nut than before. I exercise every day; I have to or else I'll wind up with a fat ass! I'm one of those people who will read the labels on every food item they purchase. LOL

My favourite drink while writing is a homemade chai tea latte. Well, tea period. Must be the Brit coming out in me. When I relax, or we have company over, I usually indulge with a glass of Japanese plum wine on ice, of course.​ My entire office is purple, even the carpet. I find the colour calming, and it gets my creative juices flowing. Love it!

Currently, I reside in British Columbia, Canada with my husband, our daughter and son. Our eldest son passed away; he's not with us physically, but he is in spirit. My daughter owns a cat that is the moodiest creature you'll ever meet. Seriously, the foul little beast still swats at my legs when I don't pay him enough attention.

What else can I tell you? Lots of things, but the most important tidbit, I'm passionate about my writing and plan to continue publishing. How many novels? Who knows, I guess until the ideas run dry, or I die.

Where are we today, on today's offering? Well...for 1) Thursday Taster... 2) Work-in-Progress... 3) A too long excerpt. I shall keep my intro short since I ran way over, but where to cut?Lots of wonderful writers are offering up a sample from a current WIP. Please go read and comment or their work. A little encouragement goes a long way. The links are all over and they are also listed like painful tears, one by one below. Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜﾚo√乇¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*°Read Previous Installments here:FirstSecondThirdFourthFifthSixthSeventhEighthNineTenEleven Twelve

Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences

“Finally, I am to
gain her love. Not that I would not want more love in my life, however, why is
that necessary, Aynne?”

“Because if she does not love you, Simon, she will never
allow you to help her. She is hard to explain, but she does not want pity or
handouts. She cannot be manipulated, even at ten. I have raised her to be too strong,
I’m afraid, and prepare for a world in which she will have to take care of
herself, to be anything she wants to become. It seems I didn’t teach her how to
be graceful yet, in the face of her special needs. Ever since she was diagnosed
with SCA, she has been involved in her recovery, long-term management and
control of her anemia. The control gave her strength and a sense of
responsibility in partnering with her medical team managing her healthcare. The
authority, however veiled, seemed wise at the time since my parents were gone
and she didn’t have any other family but me. What would she do if something
happened to me? We – I – had to think in those terms early on. Oh, God
Simon….what if…if…”

“One-step-at-a-time, Aynne. If I’ve learned anything at
all in the last six years of my wife’s battle with cancer, and her subsequent
treatment, it was to take everything ‘one-step-and-one-day-at-a-time’.”

“Of course, you are quite right. I have been. It was the
only way I could make it through the long days of treatment and diagnosis. My
resolve, however, seems to have weakened, not strengthened, in your presence. I
have no doubts about your charm. I think you accomplished all three of those tasks
with me before we had even spoken a single word. Certainly, after we did speak
I trusted, respected and loved you almost immediately – even if it was only for
one night.”

“Obviously, it wasn’t for just one night since we are
sitting here, together ten years later, right now.”

Aynne blushed at the assumption that there was more to
their relationship than that one spectacular night together lost in each
other’s dreams of passion. “If you get that far with Lily, Simon, that is really
only the beginning. You’ll have to be tested to see if you are a match and if
you are then you will need to be prepped for organ extraction and live donor
surgery.”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Aynne, I…I…”

“I know, Simon. I know.”

“I have a family…”

“I know.”

“…children of my own and a dying wife that needs me now
more than ever. My children know their mother is dying, that it is just a
matter of time before they lose her forever. They need me now. Doing this will
cause them to think that they may lose me too."

“I know.”

“I can’t think of jeopardizing their security, their
courage, their happiness all of that and more for …”

“I know.”

“I, I’ll have to think about it.”

“I know, Simon. I understand; I really do.”

Aynne began to weep silently. Finally, unable to hold the
tears back against the strain, the pressure, the singular responsibility of
Lily’s life that she held in her hands, she was overwhelmed. It was too much
for some couples, let alone one woman. She felt the weight. She felt the burden.
She felt the pain of it all, the decade of doctors, medical clinics, and
specialists – lonely tears. She felt the unfettered voluntary yoke of love.

“Aynne, please do not cry, not now – please. We’ll feel
like we are doing something if I get
tested. I can do that here in Chicago, first. That is one step, let it be the
first step, in the right direction. If I am not a match, everything else is
moot and Lily won’t have her hopes built up
only to dash them. We will have to figure something else out. Let me do
some research. Please, please…stop crying. And let your doctors know to release
any necessary information about Lily to my physicians and we’ll take it from
there. Okay? Please, please don’t cry. We’ll figure this out, we will; I
promise. And we’ll do it together. Lily is, after all, my daughter, too.”

His confident reassurance unlocked the remains of her
resistance. Aynne dropped the cup and saucer on the Oriental carpet and she felt
even more hopeless, more helpless. Simon rose and in one swift moment, he was
at her side. He gathered her in his arms and she allowed him to collect all of
her fears and emotions in a single commanding embrace. Everything raced back to
her in strobe-like speed and flashes from the one night they spent together in
the candle lit, flickering shadows of an old historic hotel. She crumbled to
his will in his firm and reassuring grip. The burden under the weight of the
unintended consequences of their shared passion at last shared.

“Yes, Simon. Lily is your daughter, too,” and Aynne wept,
helplessly.

He let her weep as he supported her weight and she restored
some strength. He cooed softly into her hair as he stroked her, inhaled her
essence, and comforted her as she regained her composure. The distance, the
years, the separate lives vanished and they were swept back, back into their
suite at the Hotel Whitcomb, Room 457, riding the glittering stars and the
glistening moonbeams as they swirled and rose around them with the ebbing flow
of their love. She was lost in her love for him, again and still, as she knew
she would be if she ever saw him again let alone share a single breath and
heartbeat.